


Cinnamon Kisses

by madamerenard



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Crack, Polyamory, Threesome - F/F/F, android!Machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4239993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madamerenard/pseuds/madamerenard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You’ve been eating at night again,” was the Machine’s crisp greeting as she trudged into the small kitchen. Her pale white metal glimmered with the slightest hint of sunlight.</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Worried I’ll get fat?” Sameen replied languidly, slipping into a stool by the kitchen island.</i></p><p>  <i>The Machine gave her a withering look, the same that Sameen often saw on Finch. It really was freaky how similar they were. “It disturbs your sleep cycle.”</i></p><p> <br/>Or: how Sameen is impatient, Root is her usual wisecracking self even at 6 AM, and the Machine is getting to be quite the chef.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinnamon Kisses

Sameen woke to the sweet smell of cinnamon.

Her stomach snarled at her as she checked the clock. Six A.M. The light of dawn was just breaking through their window, bathing New York City in a golden glow.

Sameen stretched, feeling the warmth of the crisp white sheets beneath her worn body. She glanced to her right and, assuring herself that the mess of chestnut hair hid a sleeping form, carefully slid out of bed.

“You’ve been eating at night again,” was the Machine’s crisp greeting as she trudged into the small kitchen. Her pale white metal glimmered with the slightest hint of sunlight.

“Worried I’ll get fat?” Sameen replied languidly, slipping into a stool by the kitchen island.

The Machine gave her a withering look, the same that Sameen often saw on Finch. It really was freaky how similar they were. “It disturbs your sleep cycle.”

“Too bad you weren’t there to stop me.” Really, the Machine could have kicked up a fuss if she wanted. There were no limits to her technological power. The fact that Sameen’s only punishment was a look and a reprimand told her the Machine wanted to fuss without being too overbearing. It was a fine line she walked with her humans. “Where do you run off to at night, anyway?”

“Important robot things,” the Machine assured, her face carefully blank. Sameen scowled, but it looked like she wasn’t getting an answer today. The AI was every bit as cagey and secretive as her creator, although the fact that Root knew why she never stayed at night did bother her a little more. “Also, I had to restock. Again.”

When they didn’t have a number, they stayed in Ernest Thornhill’s apartment. It was nice, but Sameen put in blackout curtains because who the hell has windows that big if they don’t want to get shot? _"Ernest"_ certainly wasn’t afraid, but the humans could only take so many bullets. Still, it was nice to have a place to call home. Sameen smiled. “You know how much I like to eat.”

“I do,” the Machine agreed, because she knew everything about everybody. “Root will awaken in approximately 14 minutes, then take another 10 minutes to get out of bed. Then you two can share these delicious cinnamon rolls before we get to work.”

The Machine learned how to cook shortly after moving Sameen and Root into her apartment. The reason was still beyond the operative, but she did spy on the Machine paying small children in the park to taste her very first attempts and give an honest critique (which is a lot of trouble for a computer to go through), so she decided to simply be silently thankful. The Machine tried really hard to be human, and her cooking was actually getting quite good.

“Another number?” Sameen questioned.

“They never stop coming,” the AI said absently, a hollow echo of her father.

They spent the rest of the 24 minutes in relative silence, during which the Machine thoughtfully combed through Sameen’s knotted black hair with a brush. Her fingers felt cold where they skimmed her skin, but Sameen’s long since grown used to the chill of silicon and titanium.

“How are my favorite ladies?” Root exclaimed as she strode into the room, stretching her arms behind her head.

“Miserable, now that you’re awake,” Sameen griped.

“Love you too,” Root giggled, kissing Sameen on the cheek. She did the same to the Machine, who smiled shyly as opposed to Sameen’s bigger frown. “What smells _delicious?_ ”

“Cinnamon rolls,” the Machine replied. “Homemade.” The over timer dinged with frighteningly good timing. The Machine constantly told them she couldn’t see into the future, just make predictions, but Sameen still held a hint of doubt.

The Machine took them out of the oven (without oven mitts, obviously) and set the tray on the counter. She smacked Sameen’s hand when the latter reached to take one. “They have to cool!” she squawked.

“What the hell am I supposed to do until then?” Sameen argued. “You can’t do that to me, M! You’re killing me!”

“I could think of a few things to pass the time,” Root said suggestively, raising her eyebrows.

The Machine frowned thunderously, prompting Root to sidle up to her and nuzzle against the track marks on her cheek where wires hissed beneath. “I’m joking! We would never ignore you.” The Machine, maybe purposefully, ignored her and foiled Sameen’s second attempt on the pastries.

Sameen held her smarting hand, looking up to scowl and grumble at the Machine. But she stopped short when she saw the Machine's piercing eyes, staring at her intently. She was a million miles away, a million places at once, yet all of her brilliance and focus seemed to be utterly engrossed in Sameen at that moment.

And, really, that dumb robot should know better by now.

Sameen was out of her seat and pressed against the well-dressed android before they could even blink. The humans, that is. The robot seemed perfectly content to lie back and let Sameen ravish her mouth. The Machine’s mouth was dry, hard, not really anything like a human’s but she was still a “work in progress”, in her own words. Sameen thought she was perfect, her lips just soft enough to submit to hers and hard enough to remind the operative of handcuffs and chains and she loved it, even if the Machine would no doubt protest to being associated with such violent things. She was soft and kindhearted, and Sameen could feel her own darkness ebbing away. Maybe there was something to Root’s fanaticism after all.

Sameen pulled away after a long moment, returned to the stool and popped a cinnamon roll in her mouth. The Machine, circuits warm and buzzing, looking for all the world like someone had thoroughly rifled through her core code, didn’t say a word.

Root looked between the two bearing her signature pout. “Okay, I’m sorry!”

That broke the air. The Machine snickered warmly, and Sameen even gave a small smirk. The AI approached her very first interface and kissed her softly, assuring her there was no harm done. “Come have some cinnamon rolls,” she murmured to the brunette, taking her hand. “They’re very good. Right, Sameen?”

“They’re alright.”

“Oh, Sameen gave it an outstanding review! Now I _have_ to try them.”

Root and the Machine snuggled and held hands for the rest of the morning, but Sameen couldn’t find it in herself to taunt them about their sappy display.

There was plenty of time for that after she'd polished off this tray.

**Author's Note:**

> more femslash ships with the machine, pls. particularly with root BUT this ot3 is so tempting. mostly because i honestly cant imagine root choosing sameen over the machine or vice versa. thus.......polyships!


End file.
